


Return to Sender

by rxcrcfllptrs



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Android Jon, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-01
Updated: 2015-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-18 10:02:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4701941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rxcrcfllptrs/pseuds/rxcrcfllptrs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Golden Baby, c’en est assez</i>
  <br/>
  <i>De courir te faire désirer</i>
</p><p>There's a few things Michael takes away from this situation: (1) Ryan's an asshole, but an asshole who <i>listens</i> (2) Humanoid robots are basically like feline robots, but with backchat that he can understand, and (3) How in the hell did Ryan manage to build 12 working androids, and give him the sassiest one? What did he do to deserve this?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return to Sender

**Author's Note:**

  * For [armethaumaturgy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/armethaumaturgy/gifts), [butterflyknifle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflyknifle/gifts).



> Prompt from Evan (kurumaka on ao3): "android jon and human Michael. jon develops feelings outside his programation (or something) and Michael is kinda torn between being scared about it and fucking loving the adorable fucker". But also dedicated to Michael (hymnotics on tumblr), bc they're both trash for android!jon. I regret 0 things about this.

“RYAN, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

These are the words that first leave Michael’s mouth when he storms into the R&D floor of Radiological Telecommunications. This isn’t the first time he’s had an entrance of such a nature into the building, though it does surprise a few interns who aren’t used to such an outburst.

Workers milling about in the laboratory part as the disgruntled engineer strode towards the aforementioned Ryan Haywood, a well-known supergenius and master of all things related to loopholes and biotechnology. He sports a calm, if a little amused, expression when Michael pounds his fists onto the metal table. “Yes?”

“You motherfucker, you know what you did!” He points an accusatory finger at Ryan, shaking with anger. “Why the fuck did you deliver this bullshit on my doorstep?! Don’t you have enough of these assholes to take care of already?!”

A cleared throat lets them both know that a majority of scientists were looking at them, and all it recieves is a middle finger from Michael, and an exasperated sigh from Ryan as they move to one of the soundproofed conference rooms on the floor.

“I swear to fucking god, Ryan. I’m not here to be the person who gets the products of your engineering highs when you have an itch,” says Michael as he paces back and forth on the opposite side of the conference table. “How many assholes have you made that you had to send one at my door?!”

“Well,” Ryan reclines. “There’s Caleb, Tina, Ray, Meg, Gavin, Blaine, Mica...” the names go in one ear and out the other as Michael’s still trying to wonder what the _fuck_ he’s going to do with the one sitting in is apartment.

“For a guy with an IQ higher than Einstein, you’re a fucking idiot!” Michael massages his forehead with one hand, the other in his pocket, twiddling with the failsafe for the fucking android in his house what the fucking fuck, before collapsing on a chair. “What the fuck am I gonna do with one of your creations, god forbid,” he moans despairingly.

“Why couldn’t Caiti give away one of her animal prototypes?” he whines. “At least they don’t need to have birth certificates or passports. But nooooo...”

Ryan shrugs. In his head, the action of giving Michael an android is a reaction to Michael’s ‘fuck i’m single for life’ outbursts every time they have to go out for drinks. This could solve it, at least.

*

Sat on the couch of Michael’s apartment is a person with light skin and dark hair stopping short of their neck, lips slightly parted, posture ramrod straight, and eyelids partially open to show dimmed eyes. Text whizzes by, too quickly to make out the words.

. . .

**Initialising BIOS.**

**JRH-WD BIOS v1.0028RMG**  
**(c) 2065-99, Oscar Tango Systems**

**OTS0093 BIOS V1.0**

**CPU : PYG-malion Y7453 CPU**  
**Speed : 7THz Count : 6**  
**TExt : Gee, bootloader, What do you want to do tonight?**

 **BIOS initialised. CPU-POST booting.**  
**CPU-POST complete. There are 0 errors and 0 crashes since last start-up.**

**MBR booting.**

**OTS0093-CB1 initialising.**  
**TExt : The same thing we do every night, BIOS - try to take over the world!**

 **OTS0093-CB2 initialising.**  
**Operating System : RS-MGR 1.0**  
**Peripheral Count : 9**  
**Build date : 9/12/84**  
**Last boot date : 2/14/87**

**Initialising peripherals.**

The more and more power from the banks is distributed as it tries to keep up with the system’s command as it initialises the rest of the body. The dimmed eyes lights up. Eyelids flutter, showing bright blue irises that sufficiently hides the text the loader prints.

 **Ocular Sys v3.2 … ACTIVE**  
**Gustatory Sys v.7.9 … ACTIVE**  
**Tactile Sys v.2.4 … ACTIVE**  
**Thermoception v1.3 … ACTIVE**  
**Auditory Sys v3.4 … ACTIVE**  
**Olfactory Sys v2.5 … ERROR**  
**Equilibrial Sys v6.7 … ACTIVE**  
**Nociceptive Sys v0.5 … ACTIVE**  
**Tensive Sys v1.7 … ACTIVE**

**WARNING There is an error in one (1) peripheral system. Some functions may not run until error is resolved.**

**Loading information cache.**  
**Loading interface.**  
**Loading.**

 **Run[‘ots-startup.exe’];**  
**Run.init[‘rsgr.exe’];**  
**Print[‘Hello world!’];**

“Hello world!” Lips move to show the illusion of diction, rhetoric systems working doubly to fabricate a voice for RS-MGR 1.0.

 **Boot complete.**  
**Awaiting input.**

*

Not much work for either of them gets done that day, what with Michael too distracted by the fact that his coworker basically dumped a person on his doorstep, and Ryan trying to calm his friend through the language of changelogs and ‘how to have a roommate 101’ self-help books. “Just think of ‘em as cats. Except with backchat that you can understand.”

They talk Michael’s new situation over their respective beverages, beer for Michael, diet coke for Ryan. “Do they come with like, pre-programmed personalities and information? Or am I stuck with a baby in a 20 year old’s body? Tabula rasa and all that.”

Ryan stares at him as though he’d just been insulted. “He’s the...” he trails off to count all the androids he’s made. “12th iteration, of course I won’t just give him to you with nothing on his stratch disk. You may think I’m an idiot, but I’m not _that_ much of an idiot as you say I am.”

“Ryan,” Michael sighs. “Giving a single, 28-year-old mechanical engineer with anger issues a robot made by the same man who created Gavin and hoping that said robot won’t be dismantled and thrown to the heap is, in fact, an very idiotic decision.”

“Suuure,” disbelief clearly colouring the word. “Just so you know, I install multiple failsafes to make sure that that doesn’t happen, even the one you have doesn’t encompass all of them.”

“Ryan, you are one creepy motherfucker.”

“I aim to please.”

*

Michael does his best to open the door as silently as possible, trying to keep up with the delusion that there is only a guest, not some _fucking android that’ll probably stick around_ if there’s anything to take away from Ryan’s insistence AKA bullshit.

**Auditory input detected. Activating visual interface. Presence detected. Observing for parameters of presence.**

“Goddammit,” he whispers, his rather liquied lunch contributing to the blurriness of his eyesight and inability to _lock his own fucking door, Christ_. After a few minutes of struggle, he manages to lock it with a soft ‘click’, turning around and startling at the android who was inactive the morning he got it.

**Comparing parameters from data reserves. Presence matches user MICHAEL VINCENT JONES with 92% accuracy. Adding current parameters to data file, designation ‘Michael’.**

“Uh. Hi,” he says, haphazardly dropping his backpack beside the shoe rack. “You’re awake.” He scratches the back of his head. “Didn’t think you’d actually boot while I was to work.”

The android sits there with a neutral expression, and Michael has the urge to hit the wall with his forehead a few times. “But yeah, Ryan says you’re pre-programmed with a good bit of information to start with. Even said that you might be mute for a few days while you get used to being booted and all that.”

**Command prompt received: _mute_. Testing audio output.**

The android’s mouth opens, a garbled noise at attempting to respond coming from the output.

**Audio output performing at 5% capacity. 57 hours, 22 minutes until Rhetoric-Auditory Network performs at 100% capacity at current average audio stimuli level of 45dB.**

“Thought so,” he says as he starts to remove his shoes then belt, then padding his way to the kitchen. “As long as no sass happens in this household, you’ll probably be safe,” Michael says this as he looks over the collection of takeaway menus he’s collected over the years, mulling over what to have for dinner.

He startles when he turns around, nearly walking face-first into a puzzled android. “Uh? You didn’t need to follow me into the kitchen, man. I was just figuring out what food to get for dinner. How’d you do that so silently? Jeez.”

 **User Michael has given an inquiry: _How’d you do that so silently? Jeez_.**  
**Fabricating auditory response... ERROR [ Rhetoric-Auditory Network currently unable to create response. ]**  
**Initiating non-verbal response.**

The android shrugs.

Welp.

*

Later that night, Michael slept on his normal old tiny bed, physically and mentally exhausted but at the same time still wide awake with too many thoughts buzzing in his head. This situation is a problem that he has to solve.

Of course, the first step to solving one is actually defining it, and he’s tossing and turning with too many facts, too many sources, too many theorems to make sense of anything at all. There’s too many variables right now. Too much that he doesn’t know, too much that he does, and not enough of what could happen if something bad happens.

He sleeps without ease that night.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so any computer-y bits are pure bull that I ripped off of booting screens of Linux computers. Because Ryan would absolutely use Linux to make OSes for his androids. Also, I was so tempted to put Michael's user designation as "Rage Quit Guy" but... yeah...


End file.
